where sass and sacred collide…

Playing Into the Wind

I’m not a golfer. Not by a long shot – pun intended. My husband’s a golfer, and four years ago he got me golf clubs for our anniversary. I squealed in delight because they are “pretty” – I tried them on. You know, slung the strap over my shoulder and struck a golfer’s pose (whatever that is). And that’s about where my golf experience ends.

But I know there’s this idea of playing into the wind. That true golfers can’t blame the conditions for their bad game. That part of the game is assessing the wind and playing your ball accordingly.

There’s a hefty breeze blowing in my life right now and I don’t like it. Not a bit. It’s an uncomfortable, harsh wind. It’s throwing me off my game.

I’m not a stranger to changing breezes – I’ve weathered multiple storms. I just wasn’t prepared for this one. This breeze comes in the form of a job loss for my husband. In the most untimely of seasons: as we are in the midst of a remodel/renovation on our recently purchased house, and as I’m just starting to take my own risks in career/life transition.

I don’t like this breeze. Not a bit.

There are days that it makes me sad, days that it makes me angry, and days it just makes me plain tired.

See, I was playing my game (translate life) and was just starting to feel the swing of things. Sorry, I just can’t resist the puns today. Not in my nature, but I’m just going with it.

But really, if life were a game of golf, you would have seen me smiling as I looked down the fairway on a beautiful sunny day. I was swinging my little club with a sense of clarity, passion, and fun. But then this darn breeze kicked up. And I see all my golf balls flying to the right and the left.

Some days I get so angry at the wind that I could spit into it. But see, the thing is with wind is, it always wins, and the spit will just fly right back in my face. And that may be the very worst thing about it: that my anger, my frustration, my sense of injustice, doesn’t change the wind a dang bit. I am powerless in the face of this wind. DANG for powerlessness.

The wind is the wind and it doesn’t care that I don’t like the way it’s blowing. Leaving me with three infuriating options:

I can keep hitting my darn balls the same way and complaining about that dang wind that keeps blowing them sideways,

I can stop playing altogether, or

I can play into the wind.

The thing is, I don’t want to stop playing. So that eliminates option number two.

And while I want to keep playing my game the way I was, I’m really not getting anywhere with that strategy.

So that means I have to change my game. And I don’t want to. I really, really don’t want to.

But I have to play into the wind.

This is what I think it looks like to change my game:

Look Forward. I have to stop looking backwards and thinking about how the wind was blowing, or how I think it should be blowing. Forward is the only option, and every minute I spend thinking about the past is a wasted minute. It won’t change anything.

Remove obstacles. Right now, that’s my anger. My anger has to die. I want to feed it and cultivate it because I think I’m right. Like, really. I think I’m right and choices that have been made are wrong. So what I WANT to do is hold onto the anger. But what I HAVE to do is put it to death, starve it, stop giving it time and energy and attention. If I don’t, it’s game over for my heart.

Study the wind. The only way I can play into the wind is if I understand where and how it’s now blowing. This will require me stopping, being still, watching, and listening before taking action. Bagger-Vance style.

Swing. It’s not enough if I take all the first steps – I still need to actually play. This means my first calibration might be wrong, might need some tweaking, might take me back to steps 3 & 4 again. And again. And again.

Be ready for the wind to change again. If it’s not clear by now, I’m not the most adaptable person in the world. I used to think I was, but I’m not. I’m just not. But the wind is a wild thing, and not subject to my desire to tame it.